


Into Thin Air, The Miscellaneous Archive

by jacksgreysays (jacksgreyson)



Series: The Saga of Windy Strife [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreysays
Summary: (The collection of loosely related snippets and ficlets set in the Into Thin Air 'verse. Originally posted on tumblr.)





	1. (2015-01-11) ficlet

Zie is Windy. She is Wendy. He is Wind.

Zie is the sister, sibling, brother. The protector, student, destroyer. He is the best candidate for the job, she is kicked out before she can graduate. They are told to carve their own place in the world, to find a niche; zie does not settle for just one.

Windy is from the cold, harsh mountains. Named for the storms that trump even dragons and wolves in the race for most deadly. Zie does not like the people, and they do not like hir. Worse, they do not like hir brother. Zie learns to shoot, to kill, to feed, to clothe, to shelter. When hir brother leaves, zie does not follow, because zie is already gone.

Wendy is a soft, sweet girl; naive like all country girls are in the city. She lets strange men buy her meals, drape her in all the newest fashions, all luxurious fabrics and sparkling gems. She shies away from too much touch, but she is warm and her skin so smooth, and every chaste kiss convinces these men that they have been paid in turn. They never notice the scrawny boy with matching features hiding in the shadows.

Wind is the best and brightest of his squad. He makes the funniest jokes and knows all the tricks to keeping uniforms neat and inspection ready. He’s friends with everyone, can kick anyone’s ass, and is a shoe in for the  elite special forces program. It’s unfortunate about his less-talented, hanger on brother–sometimes family is a burden that can’t be escaped–but he bears it well enough. There’s talk of an apprenticeship, if he can pass the medical exam.

She is kicked out of the program–they don’t accept girls. And she can’t say that she isn’t one. Especially now, after her breasts and lack of a penis have been brought to the forefront of her mind. And while she still seethes, her rage whipping around inside of her stupidly female chest, she accepts that she won’t ever achieve what so many people thought Wind would.

But zie can do so much more. There’s another organization, more flexible, more accepting, more fulfilling. Zie is Windy, she is Wendy, he is Wind. He is Wayne with the broad shoulders and slim hips, a minimal arm movement turned into a light caress. She is Wednesday with distracting blue eyes and shining golden hair, a neat pivot turned into a dance of either death or desire. Zie is the striker in the dark, a dragon destroying evil, flying free from hir cage with the apocalypse on hir tail. They are the soldiers that serve the people, the heroes that save the world.


	2. (2015-02-10) ficlet

“There’s something off about that Strife kid,” Kunsel muttered, narrow eyed glare hidden behind his helmet’s visor. Next to him, Zack turned, SOLDIER hearing easily picking up his friend’s words.

They both watched the cadets milling around the cafeteria, in particular, a pair of blonde cadets. One who was easily chatting with his peers, the other passively eating his allotted pile of mush.

“Who–Spike? Nah, he’s just a little shy, you know? I mean… yeah, he’s kind small, but he’s got heart.” Zack rambled, meaning well. Cloud Strife was a good kid, a nice one. If that were the criteria SOLDIER chose their candidates, he’d be shoe in. Unfortunately…

“No, the other one. His brother.”

“Oh. You think? He seems pretty friendly. And Cloudy said he was top of the class, I think.” Wind Strife, on the other hand, would make a decent Second Class in no time at all. Maybe even First Class in four or five years.

“Yeah, that’s what’s so suspicious,” The two Second Classes took a seat, their own food much more appetizing than the slop given to cadets. They were three tables away, but they could still pick up on what was being said–SOLDIER senses and all that. Not that cadets were good at moderating their voices. Most cadets, anyway.

“Wind, man, I can’t believe we actually won that last trial!” One of the cadets–Gregson, Greyson–something like that, whooped. Two other cadets at their table cheered in agreement.

“What? So little faith in me, Jake. Maybe next time I’ll pick someone else for my fireteam.” Wind joked, smiling to take the edge out of the words.

“He’s just saying we’re all surprised at how well we recovered after that idio– your brother fumbled the package,” said a different cadet, on the opposite side of the table. He was Smith or Jones, one of those ridiculously common names. He winced at his own verbal slip, knowing what was to come…

“I think my brother did pretty well, considering he didn’t have proper cover fire. We haven’t gotten to the higher level infiltration course yet, and Cloud still made it passed two of the enemies despite his distraction being two minutes late.”

… or not. That was pretty mild. Still obvious who was supposed to be in charge of Cloud’s cover fire and the distraction, though.

“Thanks Windy,” the smaller twin murmured, arm nudging into his brother’s side in gratitude.

“Y-yeah, Cloud. That was pretty cool,” The other cadet tried to backtrack, as others around the table also chimed in tentatively.

“I’m thinking about switching up our fireteam, though. Hey Stephen, you did pretty well on our last demolitions exam, didn’t you?”

A cadet at the very end of the table, Krantz, nearly falling off the bench seat, perked up at the sound of his name. “Yeah, uh, not as good as you though.”

“Don’t be so modest, Stephen. Better than Mitch, right?”

… and there it was.

While the rest of the table didn’t quite freeze, they were hesitant to interrupt. And Mitch Jones–the cadet who might as well have been eating his own foot for lunch–just gripped his utensils and accepted his fall from grace.

Wind, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the table’s silence, continued on, “How about next trial you join my fireteam? We’re all one squad anyway, we should get used to working with each other before the trials become squad versus squad.”

“Sounds great,” Krantz enthused, moving in to the space unconsciously made for him by the other cadets.

“Man, Wind, that’s a great idea” Gregson said, back to his previous volume, “You’d make a great squad leader,”

The rest of the boys around the table nodded and agreed, ingratiating.

“Ha, no way, but thanks. And plus, it’s the instructors that choose squad leaders isn’t it?” Wind demurred, though he waited a bit before switching topics, “Okay, hands up, who did not understand the strategy reading from yesterday? That textbook is so bad,”

The cadets then devolved into whining about their coursework, their classes, and their instructors for ten minutes, until the chime which signaled every half hour went off. As a herd they rushed through clearing the table and leaving the cafeteria.

When they were gone, Kunsel just made a face at Zack who, despite SOLDIER senses not including the ability to see through solids, could somehow still tell. Zack grimaced in return, “I see what you mean,”

Except for two words, Cloud hadn’t said a thing the entire lunch break. And that was to his brother. In contrast, Wind had held court over their table–his squad mates practically bowing down and swearing fealty. Zack himself had been just as popular during their time as cadets, but he hadn’t been that…

“The word you’re looking for is manipulative,” Kunsel chimed in, reading his friend’s shifting expressions.

“… Yeah. But, well. He’s not bad. He totally stood up for his brother, a good brother can’t be a horrible person, right?”


	3. Word Prompts (O20): Ozone

Windy’s first mission outside of Midgar heralds hir first time in a helicopter. It is not a fun experience.

“Oh Hel, why,” Windy groans, fingers pale with how desperately he is grabbing at the fabric of his uniform trousers trying not to puke. His hair, as always, is an absolute loss, whipping about in bright blonde curls.

Reno, that ass, brays with laughter, smacks hir shoulder and shouts, “Better get used to it, rookie. This is how Turks travel in style!”

Rude, while not as obnoxious as his partner, still manages to give off a vibe of smug superiority.

This mission, unlike all of WIndy’s previous missions, actually matters. It’s why there are a pair of actual Turks accompanying her. Or, rather, why she is accompanying them. If Windy performs well enough on this mission, she’ll finally be officially accepted into the Turks. Instead of a trainee running errands all around Midgar.

“Beginning descent,” Knife warns before, suddenly, the helicopter ride gets worse by plummeting a hundreds of feet. Probably not really, but it might as well, going by the increase in Windy’s nausea. Her Turk mentor does not believe in coddling.

When they finally land on solid ground, Windy can proudly say that he did not embarrass himself by a) puking or b) dropping to the ground in gratitude and weak knees. Unfortunately, Windy’s hair is a mess and his incessant clutching has wrinkled the new Turk uniform he was given just this morning.

In comparison to Rude and Knife’s immaculate suits, and Reno’s roguish yet tasteful casualness, Windy’s dishevelment is noticeable and… a little shameful. Quickly zie runs her hands through hir hair, wincing but silently pulling it through tangles, and pats down the wrinkles in the midnight blue fabric as best as zie can.

The senior Turks are obligingly patient as she does this, though they are far more amused than he’d prefer.

“Today we’re checking in on some… suspicious activity in the Fort Condor generator. Someone is either willfully or ignorantly fucking up and we need to find out who, and we need to stop this.” Knife barely explains before leading their small but deadly group of four towards the ShinRa generator.

In the distance, Windy can see the townspeople staring at them. Ahead of them, the troopers stationed at the entrance visibly straighten their posture.

Looking at them makes her wonder how her brother is doing… but that just reminds Windy of the last time they saw each other and their less than amicable parting. The Strife brothers were as different as twins could have been; even their fellow cadets knew that Wind would have made an excellent SOLDIER. Cloud? Not so much. Too bad it was all a lie.

The trooper’s gazes are tinged with more fear than the admiration that would have been aimed at a SOLDIER, but Turks get respect too.

Windy hopes zie doesn’t fuck this up.


	4. (2015-05-04) ficlet

Windy’s seventh training mission in Midgar coincides with hir first time meeting Don Corneo. It’s part of the reason why Cloud will end up needing to cross-dress in the future. Zie will never tell him.

The mission didn’t actually involve Don Corneo, that’s just the way it turned out. It didn’t need Windy to assume an identity either, but it was one of the things which had appealed to the Turks for her recruitment. Which was why, for that mission, Windy was going by the name Wayne.

The mission started simple–establish a contact in the Honey Bee Inn–but in the way that, apparently, both Strife twins’ lives worked even minor tasks were needlessly complicated. Most of the brothel girls were very kind, but sex workers don’t give favors out for free.

Thankfully, Wayne was a very accommodating young man, whose open country-boy face prompted people to be generous in turn. And so the girls would ask him to complete little tasks in exchange for information. A delivery here, a purchase there–little things which sent Wayne running throughout the different sectors.

It was easy work, nothing which required him to break character, and it helped Windy form a mental map of the slums. Being from Nibelheim was a disadvantage when so much of ShinRa’s activities were in cities. She had a lot of catching up to do.

Though undemanding, Windy’s seventh mission was tedious, and ended up taking almost two weeks. While Turk training missions didn’t necessarily have a deadline, surely hir speed, or lack thereof, was a poor showing for a Turk recruit. Zie needed to step up hir game. Wayne needed to meet the Inn’s Madame; he needed to meet the Queen.


	5. (2015-05-19) ficlet

It’s a miserable situation for all involved. He with untrustworthy memories and contradictory stories. She with a dead hometown and the trauma of having survived. And zie with an amnesiac brother, a hateful childhood tormentor whispering in his ear, and stuck with an entire troop of terrorists working against hir employer

Well, at least they haven’t killed hir yet. But Winter the Turk certainly doesn’t have any friends amongst AVALANCHE, and hir allies number in two: said amnesiac brother and the Ancient that ran away from home under hir watch.

If AVALANCHE isn’t the one that kills hir, then ShinRa will certainly be eager to step up on that front.

But perhaps zie can make the argument that technically hir orders were to safeguard Miss Gainsborough. If she happens to throw her lot in with a group of terrorists then it’s only right for Winter, as her Turk bodyguard, to ensure that she comes to no harm during her… endeavors.

Ugh. As soon as the going gets tough, Windy will be the first left behind, or killed because of paranoia. If zie had to choose, zie’d want it to be in the line of duty, would want it to be hir choice.

But until then, Winter the Turk gets to be the disliked member of this little gang–lingering around like an unwanted reminder or a bad smell.

Perhaps the only one to not look at Windy with hate of varying levels would be Valentine. It makes sense, though, that an stoic ex-Turk gunner would be the most… sympathetic towards a silent current-Turk archer. If his placid apathy could be considered sympathy. But Valentine himself is accepted amongst the group where zie is not. An ex-Turk killed and experimented on is much different than one who still wears the blue suit.

This sucks.


	6. (2015-06-18) ficlet

“You think I didn’t grieve for you?” Windy spits at her stupid brother, so small and so trusting of everyone else except for her, “You think just because I’m wearing this suit, because I didn’t choose to start bombing random buildings, that I don’t love you? That I stopped being your sister?” She hates that they even have to have this conversation, but she hates that they’re having this out in front of fucking Lockheart and the rest of the ragtag band of AVALANCHE terrorists even more.

Cloud says nothing. Because he’s always been taciturn and shy but in this case it’s probably because to him Windy’s just some stranger with a similar face. Worse, a ShinRa stooge with a similar face. As far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t owe her anything.

Windy shakes off that thought, straightens his back, and continues his tirade, “You are my brother, Cloud. You will always be my brother. I have always tried to help you. Even now. Even now when you don’t remember who you even are, much less who I am. When you think of me as an enemy. I don’t need you to like me back, and I don’t need you to love me back, and that fucking,” zie chokes out, voice thick in hir throat, “It fucking tears at me, okay? But that doesn’t mean I won’t help you.”

Zie’s trying not to cry, but is obviously failing spectacularly because zie can feel the twin trails of wetness on her cheeks. In her peripheral vision, blurred as it by her tears, she can see the rest of AVALANCHE shift uncomfortably but remain in their watching. His hand, bereft of his bow, clenches compulsively around empty air.

And still Cloud says nothing.

“We’re the Strife twins. We were the pariahs of Nibelheim and we traveled half the world to go try out for SOLDIER and fail out because they’re sexist prigs and you had more heart than skill and I helped you through all of that. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there when General Sephiroth went mad and burned our shitty hometown to the ground and nearly killed you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there when that asshole Hojo faked your death and spent the last four years experimenting on you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were apparently wandering around in a catatonic state for anyone,” zie pointedly does not look at Lockheart, “to pick up and indoctrinate. But I’m here now, okay? And if you want to blow up my employer’s property then I will help you do that. If you want to kill Hojo, I will more than gladly help you do that. So please–”

“Windy,” Cloud finally says, brow furrowed.

“What?” Zie responds immediately, both in confusion and for clarification.

“Your name is Windy. Not Winter.”

“Yes…”

“Not Wind, either.”

“Okay?”

“Cloud and Windy Strife,” he adds, unhelpfully.

“Excuse you, it’s Windy and Cloud Strife. I’m older,” she argues automatically, before biting off whatever else she was going to say because…

Cloud steps closer, hand outstretched. Zie freezes, eyes opened wide, as he carefully brushes away hir tears.

It’s not very comfortable, the fabric of his gloves rough against hir face, and it’s not very effective either because it’s still obvious that zie had been crying, but it’s the thought that counts.


	7. (2017-12-14) Ask Box Advent Ficlet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of the [Ask Box Advent Calendar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11405592), prompted by saltykrispycake

Nobody likes Windy Strife.

They like who zie could be. They like how zie can and will change to be what they want.

Mom, too, never really liked Windy. She loved hir, of course, an unconditional mother’s love, but it wouldn’t be wrong to say that she liked Cloud better. A daydreamer son over the grim and jaded child forever roaming the wilds–in mind, if not also in body.

Windy’s still sorry that zie couldn’t be the daughter that she wanted.

—

It’s not the first time Windy’s been on Rufus Shinra’s cargo ship–at some point every Turk does a guard rotation on it, Winter not exempt from this–but it’s certainly the first time as a stowaway.

The accommodations aren’t too different, sadly, but zie definitely agrees with the others that finally getting hir feet on the ground of Costa del Sol is a relief.

Still AVALANCHE is technically a terrorist group–and Windy an accessory if not already a ShinRa traitor–and so they have to maintain a low profile while securing a place to rest and recover.

Thankfully, zie has an idea.

“Aerith?” zie asks her, “Can I borrow your spare dress for a bit?”

Everyone else, preferring to pretend zie doesn’t exist, turns to hir with suspicion, but that’s hardly anything new.

“Of course,” Aerith answers, because Winter’s former charge is the nicest and only person that tolerates hir presence. “Though I don’t think my jacket will fit you,” she says while rummaging through her pack.

It’s true that Windy has broader shoulders, but thankfully the dress itself is sleeveless and feminine enough to suit hir purposes.

“This isn’t the time for a makeover,” Lockhart scoffs, “though at least you’ve finally acknowledged that you need one.”

Windy grits hir teeth and tries not to visibly react, but hir gratitude to Aerith is strained.

A quick change and Windy’s current outfit is replaced with Aerith’s pink dress and Winter’s button up shirt folded and coyly tied as needed. It’s hardly anything to swipe a pair of sandals from an outdoor stall–as easy as undoing hir bun–and in a matter of moments it’s not Windy or even Winter the Turk standing there but someone else entirely.

Wendy goes to work.

—

When the twins had traveled from Nibelheim to Midgar, they had stopped in Costa del Sol. Passage to the Eastern Continent is expensive for one, two is more so.

Beyond the reach of Mt. Nibel’s harsh climes, Windy learns to be softer, warmer. Smile sweetly and look demur, but never promise more than zie can give.

Wendy is just a girl from the boondocks trying to get to the big city, what else would she be?

—

Surprisingly enough, Butch remembers Windy. Or, rather, Wendy.

Zie was fifteen and new to creating aliases, though zie hasn’t gotten much more creative.

“Wendy, babe, sexier than ever!” Butch calls out from his shop when he spots her approach. “I knew you couldn’t resist this for long,” he gestures to himself, eyes raking up her form. She knows what he sees: she’s taller than before, increase in height greater than her increase in bust, but she’s a fully grown woman now.

Yeah, Butch is sleazy, but he’s pretty well off and, more importantly, well connected in Costa del Sol.

And, unlike some people Wendy met, all talk.

Wendy smiles, leaning against the counter, forearm pushing up and emphasizing her assets.

“Midgar just doesn’t compare to Costa del Sol,” she sighs–perhaps meaning something besides the cities, perhaps not–looking up through her lashes. “Unfortunately, I’m only here to prepare for a party being thrown next week–and of course I can get you an invite–but I need to make sure accommodations are perfect.” She bites her lip, looking away for a second as if checking for eavesdroppers, “I can’t say who it’s for, of course, but let’s just say it’d make quite the buzz.”

Even across the ocean, Honey Bee Inn is famous.

“Is that so?” Butch asks, unconvincingly casual and completely hooked.

Wendy’s smile–or, rather, Winter’s smile–grows sharp, “I don’t suppose you could help me get the key to The Villa?”

—

In Midgar, the Strife twins were still the Strife twins, but they were Wind and Cloud–brothers both trying out for SOLDIER.

Wind was a man’s man–or, at least, a man in the making in comparison to the utter boys that some of his fellow cadets were. Smart and skilled and surprisingly charismatic, everything a future SOLDIER should strive to be.

Too bad Wind Strife was never real.

—

Technically The Villa is called Shinra Villa–built by the President as a summer home–but considering the sheer opulence and scale of it, no other villa in Costa del Sol deserves the epithet.

Of course, much like it’s derelict sibling Nibelheim, it hasn’t been owned by Shinra in a long time. But, alas, no one else can afford such an obnoxious piece of real estate, and so it remains empty.

But not necessarily unused.

Windy is still in hir Wendy headspace, flashier and more feminine than hir real self, and so she presents the doors of The Villa with all the flair of a showgirl.

Zie’s actually really proud of hirself, so the continued blankly suspicious stares from the majority of the party aren’t exactly what zie hoped for. Aerith, at least, seems pleased at having an actual bed to sleep in.

Well, it’s not like zie’s unused to going unappreciated.

But it is, admittedly, nicer than the Inn would be and so the group spread out to claim their own piece of luxury.

Except for her brother whose brow is furrowed, eyes clearer than they have been in weeks.

“What’s wrong, Cloud?” zie asks, once everyone else has left the foyer. They don’t often get time alone–how strange, when that’s how they lived more than half of their lives–and zie’s certain it’s on purpose.

He’s quiet for long enough that Windy thinks maybe he’s just going to ignore hir until he finally asks: “Was that a you thing, or a Turk thing?”

—

There are no female SOLDIERS.

It’s bullshit, yes, but it’s bullshit couched in enough scientific and legal jargon that some country hoyden isn’t going to change their mind, no matter if zie was top cadet.

But there are female Turks.

And the Turks are certainly interested in a candidate who can keep a secret under scrutiny.

Windy is recruited. Cloud is not.

Maybe that’s where it all went wrong.

—

Windy’s responding smile isn’t the sharp smirk of Winter or the coy curve of Wendy, it’s small and sad and honest.

“You never did like when I pretended to be other people,” zie says helplessly.

Having witnessed the vacant Cloud and the Cloud that is a vessel for Zack Fair–neither of them hir Cloud–zie finally understands.


End file.
